Two days before what would have been my Dad’s 56th birthday, the Kansas City Chiefs beat the Cincinnati Bengals at Arrowhead Stadium in a wacky game. The offense overcame three ugly turnovers, a lineman caught a touchdown, the Chiefs hit on a scoop-and-score, and it all came down to a win-or-lose field goal as time expired.
I can hear my Dad using those details to explain how that was a 1990s Chiefs win. He would cite the Bengals’ missed extra point that kept the score within two points as proof of “Arrowhead magic.” He would give the Sea of Red credit for any sack on third down, then excitedly recall which moments brought out the loudest crowd pops throughout the game.
I truly envy my Dad, my Mom, and all the original fans who established the advantage of Arrowhead Stadium. My Dad was boastfully proud of being too loud for John Elway in 1990 or blowing out the Buffalo Bills 33-6 on Monday Night Football in 1991. He cackled at the memory of intercepting Todd Marinovich four times in a playoff win and still agonized about Derrick Thomas letting that eighth sack slip through his fingers.
The Chiefs won nearly 80% of their home games during the 1990s, and my Dad wore that as a badge of honor. The 1995 and 1997 seasons don’t conjure positive words from most Chiefs fans, but he proudly remembered those years for the 8-0 records at home.
My Dad was an optimist, someone with perpetual positive energy. Heartbreaking playoff losses weren’t going to discourage his fandom, although you could hear the pain in his voice whenever he recalled Priest Holmes’ breakaway fumble during the No-Punt game.
The strong Chiefs tradition was maintained as my parents raised my two sisters and me. We were decked out in red and gold coming out of the hospital, and we all embraced that identity. Our love for the Chiefs is still the strongest bond within our family.
Happy 56th Dad. Miss you
3rd Downs will never be the same pic.twitter.com/gvI1uuToeu— Taylor Bell Jr. (@Ron_Kopp) September 17, 2024
My Dad and I shared no stronger bond than our Chiefs. I was his only son. That blessed me with unique memories just between us, like seeing Tony Gonzalez break the all-time touchdown record for tight ends in 2007. We knew we had to leave at halftime for Little League, so my Dad called his shot on Gonzalez to score early.
There was also the 2009 upset of the defending champion Pittsburgh Steelers. I remember my Dad expressing his annoyance with the massive number of Terrible Towels waving just before Jamaal Charles housed the opening kickoff. That was just the start of a wild overtime win that is still one of my all-time favorite Chiefs memories.
My blossoming years as a Chiefs fan were some of the darkest times in franchise history. I finally saw the Chiefs win the AFC West in 2010, but my Dad had the foresight to predict the flukey season crashing down in the playoffs. The biggest Chiefs fan I know chose to coach his son’s recreational basketball game instead of going to Kansas City’s first home playoff game in seven years; the Chiefs lost 30-7.
Memories became even more important to make as time went on. My parents separated in 2015, when I was 17 years old. I stayed with my mom and resented my dad, even though the decision they made was best for everybody. It was the first season of Chiefs football I followed without him.
We mended our relationship in 2016, and I’m grateful for that timing. The Chiefs won the AFC West that season, the first in their current streak of eight consecutive division titles. We got the chance to suffer in the playoffs together: six field goals, no touchdowns scored in a Divisional round loss to the Pittsburgh Steelers. Then, we saw the Chiefs finally take a quarterback in the first round together. It didn’t matter who they drafted, the aggressive move prompted my Dad to start talking Super Bowls.
That was the optimist in him, but there was no reality in his head that matched what has happened since. No one reading needs to be told how special this era of Chiefs football is, but I know there’s a deeper sense of pride for long-time fans like my Dad.
I will never forget the look in his watery eyes after winning the 2019 AFC Championship. He was astonished but truly euphoric. His face was light like 30 seasons' worth of games were lifted from his temple. It was the look of someone who accomplished their life’s work.
As I’ve reflected on my Dad’s life since he passed in June, I’ve realized his love for the Chiefs and Arrowhead Stadium is simply an extension of who he is in life. My Dad never knew a stranger. He knew how to talk with anyone lucky enough to cross his path, and he genuinely cared about everyone he met. He was determined to enjoy life but was almost more determined to be a joy in someone else’s life.
It’s why he fell in love with the atmosphere of 76,000 passionate fans gathering to do more than just watch a game. It’s about the culture of the parking lot tailgates or the friends you make at your seats. It’s about making noise on defense, then taking it up a notch on third down.
The magic of Arrowhead Stadium is people coming together, so don’t take your next trip there for granted. Bring family, make friends, and cherish the memories you make.
https://www.arrowheadpride.com/2024/9/17/24246998/a-love-letter-to-arrowhead-stadium-on-my-dads-56th-birthday?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=blogger
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